


Don't Slip Away

by Varianlover333



Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 12:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varianlover333/pseuds/Varianlover333
Summary: What if Ozpin met Oscar before he reincarnated into him? What if it was because Oscar's semblance allowed him to visit dreams of people and change nightmares into pleasant dreams?
Kudos: 18





	Don't Slip Away

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, Oscar's semblance in this fic is a bit like aura/mind projecting, except he can only do it in dreams. He projects himself through the air, and he can sense other people that are sleeping, and the emotions that they feel, and enter their dreams, change them if he wants, and since he's such a bean, he uses this to help people that are having nightmares.

Ozpin hated falling asleep. He always had nightmares. But even immortal wizards needed their rest, and he wouldn't be any good to anybody if he was falling asleep during tomorrow's meeting. So, he laid back in bed, tense, his mind racing about everything and nothing at the same time. But his exhaustion kicked in, it always did. And when he fell into the dream, he found himself in a familiar cabin in the woods, the too-familiar face that haunted his dreams and his life smiling back at him, but her eyes were distant.

"Why did you leave me, Ozma?" She strokes his cheek, a smile on her face, her words kind, but still accusing. 

"I'm not Ozma. I am Ozpin." He corrects her, wincing as he realizes he shouldn't have done that.

"Oh?" Her eyebrows lift, her face amused. "Is that the name you've decided to take up now, hm? Alright, Ozpin." Her voice is condemnating, gentle and amused all at once. 

Then her claws grip his face, and he gasps slightly, trying so hard to be brave. This is the part where it all goes wrong, he can feel it. The part where she kills him again, and then he wakes up, with only a little strength from the restless sleep over the course of the entire night. How does time always seem to slip away from him so quickly? But as he feels the dream shift even further into a nightmare, suddenly it stops. And Salem fades away, and he finds himself in a green pasture, the tall grass nearly up to his ribs from where he's sitting. A ways away, a young boy smiles at him. A former child? No. A former host? No. Ozpin doesn't know who this boy is. His skin is tanned, freckles dotting his cheeks, bandages wrapped around his neck. His off-white shirt and brown patched suspenders give Ozpin the sense that he's a farmhand. His orange gloves match the suspenders, but green guards add a hint of color. 

"Hello!" The boy waves, friendly, but nervous. 

"Hello." Ozpin replies, cautiously. "Who are you?" 

"O-oh. My name is Oscar Pine. I noticed you were... having a bad dream, so... well, I always found fields calming, with the sun, and the breeze, and..." His voice trails off, his cheeks flushing slightly. Ozpin smiles gently. What an odd dream.

"Thank you. Do you know who I am?" He asks. Oscar tilts his head slightly, thinking.

"No. Sorry." He shrugs, all innocence. "Should I?"

It's funny how the weight of the world can lift off of one's shoulders, even for a moment, when someone doesn't know who you are. When a child doesn't know who you are, it seems even lighter. And, for a moment, Ozpin could pretend that he didn't have a school to run, or a world to save, or an immortal ex to stop. Because to this young boy, he was none of those things. He was just a man having a bad dream, and Oscar held no responsibilities to him. He could freely be who he wanted to be in front of Oscar, not who he was, or had to be. 

"No, I suppose not." Ozpin lied. Lies always came so easily nowadays. When had he lost the innocence of his youth, the idea that lying was always bad, the guilt that came when he did lie, even if it was for the benefit of someone else? When Orion entered his head? When he fully became Ozma? Or somewhere in between? "Just call me Oz."

"Okay." The boy nodded, once, sharp and decided. Trusting. He walked over to where Ozpin sat, plopping himself down on the ground beside Ozpin. "It's nice to meet you, Oz." His wide, green and brown eyes blinked back at Ozpin, shining with youth and innocence and life-- and with that life, the promise of death. 

Why did mortals fear death so, when it meant they could rest in peace? The sense of finality, it was comforting, and Ozpin would give anything to have that. He prayed to gods that had long since abandoned the world that this young boy would never be pulled into his war, that he would live his life in peace, and die at a ripe, old age, perhaps surrounded by loved ones. Ozpin inhaled deeply, and beside him, Oscar leaned back into the grass, flattening it around him, so that he was enveloped in a halo of green, his eyes crinkled slighly as he smiled up at the blue sky and the puffy clouds-- and at Ozpin.

"You seem stressed." He remarked. "Would you prefer a different landscape?" His smirk told him it wasn't needed, that he had read Ozpin's emotions, and Ozpin shook his head, wondering, with a spike of panic, if Oscar had read his mind.

"This is fine, thank you." He murmured, and Oscar frowned. 

"I can feel your emotions. You're afraid. Why?" He asked, concerned. 

"Can you read my thoughts?" Ozpin might as well just ask. Oscar grinned a bit at this.

"Nah. Just your emotions." He assured Ozpin, and the centuries Ozpin-- Ozma?-- had lived assured him that Oscar was telling the truth. Ozpin relaxed slightly at this, but a nagging question prodded at his mind, preventing him from fully giving in to this blissful peace.

"Is this your semblance?" He asked. Oscar's face furrowed in confusion. Ozpin tried to rephrase his question. "Are you real, or just a dream?" He asked, and Oscar smiled, a hidden wisdom lighting in his eyes that was all too familiar to Ozpin. He'd seen it in himself so many times as a boy, looking in the mirror as he and Orion practiced Orion taking over with minimal noticable ticks. 

"Why can't I be both, Oz?" He asked, and Ozpin was confused. Oscar shifted, his eyes lighting again, this time with recognition of something, his gaze somewhere distant as he sat up. "It's time to wake up now." He said, and Ozpin's eyes wrenched open beyond his control, drawing in a slight, silent breath, the peaceful field fading to his room, the warm air and the grass replaced with slightly-twisted covers. And the memory of the dream seemed to fade, even as Ozpin grasped at straws in his mind, trying to hold onto it, and he forgot, and was left with an aching in his chest for something he had lost, but he wasn't sure what. Sunlight streamed through his window. It was morning already. 

****

Dying wasn't pleasant. It rarely ever was peaceful, and Ozpin's death was more painful than a lot of others. Exhausted, out of aura, and using all his willpower to not waste his dwindling magic on a life that would likely not last much longer anyways. He escaped the flames, retreating to the deep, dark depths of nothingness. His mind wandered, focusing on memories, thoughts, worries, as the universe decided who the next unfortunate soul would be. Then his soul crashed into another's, and it fully hit him for the first time. He was dead. He had died. This was not his life. He was there, but it wasn't his life, his body. His time was up. But his thoughts and memories bled into the poor new host, as they so often did, and the new host woke up gasping for breath, dismissing the memory as a nightmare.

The host was short, likely young. Ozpin grieved for the child that would never have the luxury of being one anymore. He would have to grow up fast, because Ozpin's death was a sign that Salem was moving. Had moved. How long had it been? As the host goes about their day, they pass a flash of something bright. Ozpin prompts, a gentle nudge to look in the mirror. For him to see his next host. The host senses it, stopping, and turns towards the mirror.

"Hello?" He asks. And Ozpin stares. It is the boy from his dream, the nightmare turned peaceful. For a brief moment, he dares to hope that this is another dream. But it's not. And he knows it, even as he hopes it. The boy sighs, chastizing himself internally for being paranoid as he turns away. His window of opportunity to introduce himself closing abruptly, Ozpin quickly speaks up.

"Hello! My name is Professor Ozpin!" He says, and the boy screams, falling backwards, stunned, in a stack of hay. Ozpin winces inside the boy-- Oscar's-- mind. "Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you." 

****

He tries to explain to Oscar the situation, how dire it is. But his rushed attempts only make Oscar bitter and anxious, even as his own anxiety is mounting. It has been nearly a month since the Fall of Beacon, as it has been come to be known as. A month is too long to have waited. Salem can do a lot of damage in a month. How does time always seem to slip away from him so quickly? 

"Oscar, please. Listen to me." Ozpin tries again. This is the third time he's tried today. First, in the morning. The second time, after Oscar's aunt called him down to dinner. Now, after dinner, as the stars wink into view.

"No. Shut up." Oscar grumbles, pausing from where he's sweeping. 

"We have to go." Ozpin says, the sense of urgency building.

"No! You're not real!" Oscar huffs. "You're a voice in my head!"

"Why can't I be both?" Ozpin would be lying if a fair bit of mirth washed over him as he repeats the line Oscar had once thrown at him. Oscar pauses, the broomstick loosening in his grip as his eyes widen. 

"Oz?" He whispers, breathlessly. 

"Hello, Oscar." Ozpin speaks fondly, affection washing over him at this sweet boy who had once tried to ease his nightmares for him. 

"You're real." Oscar states, falling to his knees as tears fill his eyes. "I thought--" He doesn't finish, unsure of what exactly to say. 

"I know. But I assure you, I am very real." Ozpin says. 

Oscar listens with an open mind that night. When he falls asleep, his semblance activates, and Ozpin is merely along for the journey. He watches in fascination as they soar across the world, myriads of color in many houses that indicate sleeping souls, emotions flying up to them as they pass over, shoved away by Oscar. They find a glow of crimson, the sadness and despair engulfing Oscar and Ozpin in an overwhelming wave. Qrow Branwen, restless and injured, bandages wrapped around his torso that leak purple venom.

"Oh, Qrow." Ozpin sighs, and Oscar pulls back to his own body, the crushing despair too much for him. He apologizes profusely when they wake up the next morning, and Ozpin reassures him that he did well. They head to Mistral soon afterwards, and on the train, Oscar dozes off, activated his semblance. He can only sense those that are asleep as well, though, and Qrow is not asleep. This must mean he got the antivenom. Ozpin refuses to think of the alternative. They press on. 

Once in Mistral, Ozpin guides Oscar to the many bars, hoping Qrow is at one of them. Praying, once again, to gods that have long since abandoned the world that Qrow has not passed on. They finally see the familiar glimpse of a crimson cape, matching the color of Qrow's aura and soul himself. When Qrow passes Oz's cane onto Oscar, Ozpin feels the familiar weight of it, the safety that it brings. Oscar allows him to take control for the first time, and Ozpin thanks him over and over for that simple act of trust as Qrow relays information about Beacon and the Fall. How many died, who he's traveling with, what he told Ruby and her friends. As they speak, Oscar begins to get more and more anxious. Ozpin offers control back, and Oscar accepts. Qrow gets drunk to hide the fact that he's upset Ozpin is gone.

Oscar helps Qrow back to the house Ruby and JNR are at, and Qrow stumbles off to coo at a flowerpot, assuring the flowers that they're doing great. As Oscar speaks to the team, Ozpin waits patiently. His students are on edge, but the sight of Qrow takes the spotlight off of Oscar, if only for a brief moment. When Ruby comes out, Ozpin doesn't have time to stop Oscar from noting on her eye color. 

"Who... are you?" She asks.

"Well, my name is Oscar Pine..." Oscar says.

"Wait for it!" Qrow mumbles.

"But you... probably know me as Professor Ozpin." He adds. Ozpin watches their reactions.

"I did it!" Qrow cheers, falling to the floor as he raises a triumphant fist. And as Ozpin gazes through the eyes of another at his former lover, he is left with an aching in his chest for something he had lost, but would never have again. 

Time always seems to slip away, he laments. Even for an immortal wizard.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started with the thought, 'Why can't dreams be reality?' And kinda morphed into this. It's a one shot, it won't be anything more. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
